


our own definition of good

by emryses



Series: conversations between inmates [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon-typical language, Discussions of Bipolar Disorder, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Episode: s09e06 Face It You're Gorgeous, Relationship Discussions, Swearing, Talking, discussions of mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 23:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17877017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emryses/pseuds/emryses
Summary: “When it was just me and you that was good.”“Me and you. We’ve always been good.”“In our own shitty definition of good, yeah. I would say so.”





	our own definition of good

So, it turns out, that being bipolar in prison is really fucking difficult.

Ian has mandatory meetings with a shrink every month or so, but they’re not really deeply invested in his situation. His meds are working, at best, some days he feels normal, some days he feels like his brain is heavy and fuzzy, and some days he feels like a goddamn zombie and he _hates_ it.

It brings back a lot of horrible memories, like laying Mickey’s bed staring at the wall. Like sitting on his porch waiting for Mickey, ready to make the most idiotic decision of his life. Among others. Ian’s done a lot of stupid things in his life.

He’s laying on Mickey’s bed waiting for him to come back. He’s out at dinner, and Ian’s refused to go, he’s just switched over to a new medication via his shrink and they’ve complete obliterated any sense of appetite Ian could have had.

Mickey’s let into the room, and he waits for a second to know that the guards have moved down the hallway before he speaks.

“Hey, I snuck you something,” he says moving towards Ian and sitting at the end of the bed near Ian’s feet, “I know you said you ain’t hungry, but you need to eat something.” Mickey passes half a shitty sandwich that must have been what he was given for dinner Ian’s way.

Ian sits up and takes the sandwich from Mickey, but looking at it makes him want to throw up. “I’ll eat it later,” he mumbles, “I promise, okay?”

Mickey nods and lets Ian off the bed where he goes to put the sandwich on his bed. Mickey grabs Ian’s ankle, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.

“You okay?” Mickey asks slowly like he’s treading on some thin ice.

Ian nods, “Yeah, I’m just — tired, and...” Ian doesn’t know how to explain it but just makes some crazy hand gestures around his head, before sighing and sitting next to Mickey on the bed.

“I get it,” Mickey says, running a hand up Ian’s back.

Ian wants to say: _No, you don’t get it, you’ll never get any of this._ He wants to yell and scream and break something. But he doesn’t even have enough energy for that. He looks up at Mickey out of the corner of his eye, and what he realizes Mickey means is: _I know this is hard for you, I know this hurts you, I know I can’t do anything for you._

Instead of yelling Ian leans over and presses a kiss onto the bolt of Mickey’s jawline, and goes to lay down again.

  
**

Most of their conversations take place at night. It’s safest like that, they can’t really talk about their extremely homosexual relationship in prison, or it would be bad news for them both. Everyone except some of the guards thinks that the two of them just have one of those prison protection things going on, no one really knows that they knew each other before bunking together. And no one knows that their relationship extends way farther than being prison butt buddies.

It’s later that night after Mickey forced Ian to eat half of that sandwich, now that they’re laying in the darkness of their room together, pressed side by side, Mickey on his side facing Ian

Later that night when they’re laying in the darkness of their room, Mickey asks,  “Do you think you were always bipolar or did it just show up one day?”

 _Huh_ , Ian thinks, _never really thought about that one before._

“I’m sure there’s some science that would say it was always there but, uh, fuck that shit,” Ian says, Mickey huffs a laugh at that. “If I could pick a time where I think my brain switched, I think it was your, um, wedding. To Svetlana,”

“Oh,” Mickey says. Ian winces.

“Not because of you! Not at all it just ... coincides. It really um, fucked me up for a little, well, you know,” Ian waves the conversation off. This might be going too far into some shit Mickey doesn’t want to think about, and for once Ian doesn’t want to push him into it.

“Yeah,” Mickey whispers, “But, maybe, like, tell me?”

Ian pauses, turning his head to look at Mickey, “Tell you?” he probes.

“Why you couldn’t stick around,” Mickey says, “Why you left.”

“Oh,” Ian says, he has to look away from Mickey, “Because you married her.”

“You know why I had to do that,” Mickey says softly.

“Yeah, I know. But then it was hard for me to understand that, I got it but I don’t think I _really_ got it,” Ian explains. Attempting to put into words _why-I-was-sixteen-and-dumb_ is really difficult. “I just —  I wanted to be with you so badly, and I wanted you to want me. And I thought you did,” he pauses again, he can hear Mickey’s heavy breathing in his ear, “I _knew_ you did, but you just —  you couldn’t— ”

“Ian— ”

“I get why. Now. But I didn’t want to be a mistress to anyone —  I had already done that enough with Ned, and with Kash when I was fifteen fucking years old.”

Mickey runs a hand up Ian’s arm until it’s resting on his bicep, “You realize that was pretty fucked up, right?”

Ian shrugs, “Yeah ... he never treated me badly, but— ”

“He was a grown ass fuckin’ man and you were a kid. That’s fucked up no matter how ‘nicely’ he treated you,” Mickey explains, venom lacing his voice.

Ian nods, “Yeah, yeah, okay but —  I couldn’t be that again. With you. Especially not with you, I cared about you way more than I cared about Kash —  if I even _cared_ about Kash,” Ian pauses, thinking that Mickey will say something in response, but he doesn’t, and it’s just all pouring out of Ian —  every thought he’s had about this since it happened, “I couldn’t be with you if you were with her, and I couldn’t stick around town and watch you and not have you, when I knew you wanted me, too. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you, and that just didn’t seem fair to anyone. And, yeah, maybe I was heading towards some sort of manic episode when I enlisted —  I threw away _everything_ I wanted and just because I couldn’t be in that place anymore, I couldn’t be _near_ you.”

Mickey is squeezing Ian’s arm, holding on like Ian is going to leave. Like they’re not trapped right now in a giant cement block inside another giant cement block. Like they both don’t believe that part of this could be hopeless.

“You thought about this a lot,” Mickey says.

“Yeah,” Ian returns.

“I’m sorry,” Mickey whispers.

Ian winces, “Please don’t apologize, I’m not blaming you.”

Mickey nods, leaning over to place a kiss on Ian’s shoulder, “Okay.”

“So that’s why I left. And then —  then after — well you know most of that.”

**

Ian thinks that all this talking shit might actually be working. Conversations Ian thought would be so difficult now come easily, and now they talk about everything.

For the first time since Ian knew Mickey, he thinks they might be talking more than they are having sex.

They talk about movies they would watch, Ian mentions books he read as a kid, and Mickey actually asks to get them.

They talk about their siblings, Ian tells Mickey about Franny, (because holy shit, Mickey doesn’t know about Franny) tells him that Lip’s in AA and trying his best.  Ian tells Mickey about running into Mandy that one time, and tells her that as far as he knows she’s doing okay for herself, that she seemed happy with her life. Mickey tells Ian that he’s glad, that happy is all he ever wanted for Mandy. He asks about Carl, and Ian beams, he loves to talk about Carl and the navy and how great he’s doing, and how Ian thinks he’s really going to go places with it. Places Ian always wanted to go but he never could. Mickey tells Ian he doesn’t really know where his brothers are, jail somewhere, probably. Ian tells Mickey about him not actually being Frank’s son, but Frank’s nephew. Mickey says one of the good outcomes of that is he’s less related to Sammi than the rest of his siblings are.

They talk about their _moms._ Ian hears more about Mickey’s mom than he ever thought possible, how she’s really only Mickey and Mandy’s mom, not Iggy’s or Joey’s or Jamie’s. How she was really young when she got together with Terry, how they were never legally married, how she was on all sorts of drugs and died of an overdose when Mickey was just a kid. How Mickey really hopes the overdose has nothing to do with Terry. How Mickey loved her even though he probably shouldn’t.

Ian knows that. He loved Monica even though he shouldn’t.

**

Ian tells Mickey his dad is out of jail.

“Your dad,” Ian says one night.

“I don’t wanna talk about my fuckin’ dad, Ian,” Mickey shoots back.

“When he ... saw us,” Ian continues.

“Ian,” Mickey says. It’s a warning, but Ian’s never been really good at seeing those.

“We never really talked about that,” Ian whispers.

“I can’t fuckin’ talk about that Ian, please,” Mickey says back, there’s no anger in his voice, “Not right now.”

“Ian nods, “But when you wanna,” he says, “I’m here to listen, right? You get that?”

Mickey stares at him for a long time, before he says, “Yeah. I get that.”

**

Ian’s favourite thing about talking to Mickey is that they don’t just live in the present anymore. Before, Ian feels like they lived in the moment, focused on the then and the now because they didn’t know when the next time they would be together is. They didn’t know when Ian would hit another low, or another high. They didn’t know if Mickey would come back from Mexico. Being together now, they have to talk about the future. If they didn’t the whole sitting in prison thing would get really fucking depressing very fast.

So they talk about the future. The future they want together. Part of that discussion is Ian trying to convince Mickey that he will actually wait for him when he gets out, Ian’s not entirely sure that Mickey believes him. But they still talk about it, about what they’ll do, about where they’ll go together.

“Do you ever think we really got a chance to just be us?” Ian asks him one night, it’s close to curfew and the lights are about to go off for the night.

“I mean — yeah. It was good for a while there. In that summer.” Mickey responds easily, settling himself down on his bed.

Ian smiles to himself, “Yeah, that was good.” And it was, Ian remembers laughing with Mickey a lot that summer. Helping Svetlana with Yevgeny, the four of them making some sort of fucked up version of family.

“You remember all that shit?” Mickey asks.

“Yeah, I mean, I know I was manic, but,” Ian pauses where he’s standing in front of Mickey on the bed, he smiles again, “Me and you. When it was just me and you that was good.”

Mickey smirks back, “Me and you. We’ve always been good.”

“In our own shitty definition of good, yeah. I would say so.”

“So are we getting this chance?” Mickey asks, gently, grabbing Ian’s arm and pulling him down to sit with him on the bed.

“What? Sitting here on our asses?” Ian laughs.

“You won’t be here forever, and I’m getting our early because of my bargain. I won’t be too far behind you,” Mickey says staring at the floor, not making eye contact, “I mean, I doubt I’ll be able to leave the state, but we can go anywhere you want. Me and you.”

“Sizzlers.”  
Mickey pulls a face, “Are you fuckin’ joking me right now?”

“You said anywhere I want,” Ian says smugly, he moves his hand towards Mickey’s knee.

“Yeah, fuck you, man,” Mickey laughs, his eyes travelling from where Ian’s hand is resting towards his face, “This is the shit I get for attempting to be romantic.”

Ian hums, “Yeah, this romantic talk of our post-prison life.”

Mickey checks the door to see if there are any guards close, “Hey —  for us that’s about how fuckin’ romantic as it’s gonna get,” he leans forward and kisses Ian quick and dirty, a promise for when the lights go out.

**

Ian’s stroking the tips of his fingers over _Ian Galager_ on Mickey’s chest one night. The tattoo is rough, but it’s not infected anymore. Mickey has his hand in Ian’s hair, scratching lightly, and Ian moves his face closer into Mickey’s neck. They have to move soon, it’s too dangerous to sleep like this all the time, but just for a few minutes in the darkness should be okay.

“I might get the tattoo covered,” Mickey admits, “That wouldn’t piss you off would it?”

Ian smirks, “Nah, no way.”

“Just brings bad memories,” Mickey whispers, “Would rather get something else.”

“Like my name actually spelled correctly?” Ian suggests.

Mickey groans, “I’ll get _shut the fuck up Ian Gallagher_ tattooed across my forehead. Maybe then you’d stop being a smart little bitch.”

Ian chuckles, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s chest and resting his chin there. “I’ll come with you, I wanna get this shit on my shoulder covered.”

He never should have fucking told Mickey about the story of him getting that stupid Monica tattoo. Mickey begins to laugh, a bit hysterically, and Ian slaps his shoulder which only makes Mickey laugh harder, and Ian begins to laugh with him.

**

“How did you first figure out that you were gay?” Ian asks one night. Ian’s been quizzing Mickey on GED practice questions. Ian suggested to Mickey that he gets his GED while they’re both in here because it might help Mickey get an earlier release than they’re both expecting. Surprisingly, Mickey eventually agreed, so Ian’s been helping him.

Mickey looks up from the practice book he’s been using, raising an eyebrow, “I’m sitting here learning math for the first time, and you wanna know about the first time I thought that I was into dudes?”

Ian rolls his eyes, “You know this math fine and you know it,” he grabs Mickey’s book and puts it out of reach, “Yes, I want to know. I’m curious.”

“You tell me first,” Mickey grunts.

“Fine,” Ian says, “Justin Timberlake.”

Mickey pops his eyebrow up, “Seriously?”

“Yes, now you.”

Mickey shifts uncomfortably and stares down at his lap even though there’s no book there to be a distraction.

“Mick?” Ian sits up a bit from where he’s sitting, putting his book down next to him as well.

“I don’t know, man, it’s way more complicated for me than it was for you,” Mickey sighs, and Ian just nods, listening. “My fuckin’ dad, you know? I think before I even knew I was gay I knew it was wrong to be gay. So whenever I thought about the fact that I could be gay? Fuck, there was no way I even _looked_ at guys like that.”

Ian moves forward, the metal bunk squeaking underneath him, but he feels the need to get closer to Mickey for this conversation, he runs a comforting hand against Mickey’s thigh.

“You’re not telling me that I’m the only guy you’ve been with, are you?” Ian asks, going for joking, but now intensely curious. He realizes he doesn’t know much about Mickey’s sexual history with guys, never even bothered to ask.

Mickey laughs a bit, some tension breaking, “No, there was a guy before you,” he sighs, “One of my older brother’s friends, we fucked around for a bit, then he got arrested with my brother and when they got out he stopped coming around.”

“Did you like him?” Ian asks.

Mickey shrugs, “I don’t know. It never got a chance to turn into something else. We really only fucked when one or both of us were drunk or high, and we always had to go so fast in case one of my brothers or my dad came in, so.”

The two of them are silent for a bit, Ian’s hand gently stroking Mickey’s leg, comforting him. Ian loves that Mickey is more open with him than he had ever been. Looking back on it, Ian thinks that if his sixteen-year-old self could hear these conversations he was having with Mickey that he would drop dead out of shock. Ian feels so lucky, _so_ fucking lucky that Mickey wants to tell him about this shit. Hopes Mickey never stops.

“I lied about fucking guys in juvie,” Mickey admits, laughing embarrassingly.

“Really?” Ian returns the laugh.

“Well, there was one guy the first time, but after I went back in when I punched the cop? I lied about those guys.”

“Why?”

Mickey laughs again, “Wanted to make you jealous. Felt like every time I went to juvie and came back you gained like fifty fuckin’ pounds of pure muscle and had some new guy to fuck around with.”

Ian laughed, “Well maybe not fifty pounds,” he shrugs.

Mickey punches him in the arm, “Shut the fuck up. You always looked good and you _knew_ it, and I looked like,” he gestures towards himself, “This.”

Ian shakes his head, “Nah Mick, you always looked good when you got out,” Ian smiles to himself, remembering the thrill he always got by seeing Mickey again.

Mickey smirks at him, “Yeah?”

Ian smirks back, “Oh yeah. _Trust_ me.”

Mickey laughs brightly, “You think I’m sexy, Gallagher?”

Ian rolls his eyes, “No, I’ve only been fucking you for six years thinking you are fuckin’ ugly,” he grabs the pillow from behind him and throws it at Mickey’s face, “Of course I think you’re sexy, you asshole.”

Mickey laughs again, and Ian commits it to memory.

**

“Ian,” Mickey whispers into his ear, they’re both on the verge of sleep.

“Yeah?” Ian whispers back, tilting his head towards Mickey a bit, his temple hitting Mickey’s nose, they stay there like that.

“You’ll wait? This time. This time you’ll really wait?” he asks.

“Yeah, Mick, I’m gonna wait,” Ian says.

And Ian knows Mickey believes him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> non-beta'd
> 
> kind constructive criticism always welcome


End file.
